


A Flaw in the Code

by bluemilkinaredsolocup



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adventure, Alien Character(s), Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemilkinaredsolocup/pseuds/bluemilkinaredsolocup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She remembers no other life but that which the First Order has given her. Stormtrooper ZL-U58 is a loyal soldier, even when she has doubts. Then a friend turns traitor and her small and structured world begins to unravel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**_'And all the people say,_ **

**_"You can't wake up, this is not a dream,_ **

**_You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,_ **

**_...Oh, oh, oh, oh,_ **

**_I think there's a flaw in my code."'_ **

_\- "Gasoline" Halsey_

Duty. Obedience. Loyalty. Discipline.

There was nothing else but these. They dictated every action, reaction, every decision and course taken in the life of a soldier. They were absolute, demanded no matter the circumstances of a soldier's life. They  _were_  life.

ZL-U58 had never known anything different than the life of a Stormtrooper of the First Order and if there had ever been memories of another place, another life, they had long ago been wiped away from her mind, her brain reprogrammed to remember only what the Order wished her to remember. If she had ever had a name, other than her ID, she had no memory of it. None of the Stormtroopers did. They were expendable assets, nuts and bolts in the gears that powered the machine that was the First Order. Even more expendable yet, since she was the rare alien that was part of that machine.

The Zeltron* were known for their empathetic natures and the ability to read and even influence the desires of others. They could calm a room simply by being in it, or stir it up if they were so inclined, or commanded. They could know what someone was feeling after only a few minutes in their presence. This nature made them extremely likeable by both sexes. They earned trust easily. They often made the perfect infiltration agent or security plant.

The people of her birth were also notorious hedonists. Partiers, lovers of any sort of pleasure they could possibly indulge in and because of their adventurous nature, often enslaved for purposes that didn't take a great imagination to realize.

She was, as all Zeltrons, red-skinned. Hers was a lighter shade, a marked hue of ruddy pink too vibrant to ever mistake her as human and a sharp contrast to the glaring cyan of her hair. Almost always braided snugly and tucked under her helmet and when loose, a frizzy blue cloud that exploded around her face and over her shoulders. She should have cut it long ago, had been reprimanded over it in the past when it was not regulation, but short it was even frizzier and haloed her head like Bantha milk fluff. ** Her figure was, at least, beyond reproach: lean and strong, muscled enough to easily bear the bulk of armor and weaponry in the worst of conditions. She was a modest height, not petite, but not nearly as statuesque as Phasma. Her features were all sharp, angular rather than soft, nose, cheekbones and chin. Her eyes were a clear and pale blue under slashing blue brows.

ZL-U58 had never explored any of these parts of her genetic makeup. She had never been ordered to make use of her inherent abilities, had never been a slave, for pleasure or otherwise. But her appearance still made her the brunt of jokes in her division and among her fellow soldiers, despite never having been a part of the lifestyle, career or fate many of her species had.

Being programmed from childhood did not exclude the natural inclination for a male to be crude and there were plenty of crude comments to go around towards the much smaller number of female troopers, though none dared to let a word of it past their lips when Captain Phasma came near. Harassment of the sexual sort was something the Captain did not lightly indulge and ZL-U58 had seen many a soldier with the towering woman's boot on their windpipe. When she was not present, it was free game and while a few of the women might take offense and report every infraction, a good deal returned the crudeness or let it lead towards another conclusion. A handful let themselves be passed around amongst the division like party favors since the number of women were so small and soldiers were not allowed slaves, but most, like ZL-U58, were conformed enough that insults and innuendos alike didn't have much outward effect. If they chose to indulge, it was straightforward, simple, a scratching of a need rather than any sort of heated exchange. There were never any consequences: Stormtroopers were sterilized, another bit of individual choice ripped away.

It had never bothered her, this loss of self, the lack of memories past the first years as a young girl when the Order had began her conditioning and training. It was comforting in a way that she supposed the Resistance and the Republic would never understand. To know, absolutely, your role in the galaxy and have no other obligation, but to fufill it. To serve, to obey, to act on an order and carry out with the expectation that there would be punishment if she failed. That was a comfort as well, to always know what to expect...

Still, even all this black and white, a literal observation as well as a figurative one, there were shades of grey. There were time she  _knew_  that what was demanded of her was wrong, perhaps even despicable. She still obeyed, still acted on those orders, but there were times it sat up with her at night when her mind should have shut itself down. It wasn't troubling enough to stop her from doing her duty and only in the last few months had truly began to give her some annoyance.

Like the slaughter on Jakku. These people were a nuisance, a blight, housing and aiding those who would fight against the First Order, supporting the corruption, the greed and chaos that the Resistance was trying their best to sew in the galaxy. The Republic, that spoiled brain child that had risen from the dangerous birth of ideas the rebels inspired, had to be taken down if peace and order were to be maintained. Still...firing into a pack of unarmed villagers had seemed...overdone, if not outright excessive. Part of her hardwired brain wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have simply killed only  _some_  of them and left the rest to instill the fear of the Order.

In the end, she had fired into the crowd of villagers just as the rest of her fellow soldiers had, with no regrets other than a vague dissatisfaction that it could have been better done. Thoughts it was best to keep to herself, especially as the Captain strode past, snapping out orders in a cold, mechanical voice, the destruction turning her gleaming armor into a blazing source of light. ZL-U58 nodded, turned and headed for the transports, but ground to a halt as a figure in black stalked past, the desert wind catching at his cloak and robes, tugging at the ragged edges. His head turned slightly and ice coated her innards as she saw her own helmeted reflection in the eye visor of his mask. But her spine snapped rigid, heels tight together and she gave a sharp nod of her head in his direction. "Sir," she offered respectfully. There was no response, of course, and she breathed easier as he prowled past. He hadn't paid her any more mind than he would anyone else, for which she could be grateful. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Kylo Ren's attention, whether it be bad or...bad. Never had she seen him talk to anyone with any sort of approval, kindness. Just frigid authority or deadly rage. His displays of fury were notorious and enough to keep the divisions beneath him in perfect order.

"ZL-U58, when you're done gawking at Lord Ren, get yourself on the transport. Immediately." The crisp voice of the Captain had ZL-U58 saluting quickly, then jogging double-time to the transport. but she was curious, just curious enough, to turn her head and watch as she filed into formation: Two other Stormtroopers were hoisting a bedraggled prisoner in Resistance colors onto Ren's transport. Did that mean that whatever the First Order's purpose on this dried up backwater planet had been accomplished?

As the transpo lift doors rose, ZL-U58 shifted, disengaged her weapon and locked it into place on the rack beside her head. As she did so, it was impossible not to notice the empty spots where fellow soldiers had stood prior to this mission. She knew their IDs, eyes behind her helmet moving over their weapon racks and their faces fled through her mind. Some she had known well, had liked. Her gaze stopped on one such place, just across from her and she got a clutch in her chest at the thought of that man dying. Her eyes moved to the soldier who stood behind where the fallen man once had. FN-2187 was visibly distressed, if the rise and fall of his shoulders were any indication, the way his helmeted head jerked as the transpo went airborne with a shudder. She stared at the streaks of blood that ran down his helmet. She remembered that the dead soldier, FN-2003, or as some had called him 'Slip' had been a friend of his, too. A closer companion to him than to her. A weaker soldier who had often needed more...encouragement...to perform his duties. FN-2187 and herself had take pains to keep him from falling under Phasma's ire as much as they could.

Keeping her voice low, her head turning back to front and center, she spoke softly. "I'm sorry. He was a good sort. You saw him fall?" Other such conversations were happening, but softly. Quietly. It wasn't well-received by the Captain, nor the General, sentiment amongst the ranks. She had no idea how Ren observed it.

"Yeah." The reply was issued in a breathless voice and she heard him draw a damp breath, lick his lips, the sounds magnified in the connection between their helmets. "Yeah, I saw him go down. That rebel pilot...before they shot up his ship." He drew another harsh breath. "Wonder what they're gonna do with him..."

Behind her helmet, ZL-U58 raised a brow. "Interrogate him," she said flatly. "What else would they do? I had thought the old man might be our target..." But she had seen herself that Ren had cut him down. "Why do you care what the Order will do to him?" She was genuinely curious...as such curiosity for the fate of prisoners was rare, though she had wondered somewhat herself...

"I don't. I just hope they...take him out. For FN-2003. It wasn't quick...the way Slip went out." The other Stormtrooper's breath went shallow again and as she turned her head, she saw he was shaking. "Still...the villagers...I saw kids..."

Anything ZL-U58 might have said, any response she might have unwisely made, was interrupted by the violent shudder of the transpo as the tracking beams of the  _Finalizer_ locked on and Captain Phasma's voice rang through their helmets. "All troops submit their weapons for inspection immediately, then report for duty in my division. Phasma out."

Turning, ZL-U58 unlocked her weapon from the rack, cursed as her armored glove, misshaped from a blast caught on the guard. Finally freeing her glove, she looked up for FN-2187, but he was nowhere to be seen. She frowned softly. She had never seen a fellow soldier so disturbed over a battle...then again, it had been his first, if she was remembering correctly. She had long since grown used to bloodshed and losses. Still...elderly and children.

Hearing the distinctive slap of the captain's boots moving across the bay floor, ZL-U58 turned with her weapon and jogged off towards inspection.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it all begins to come undone.

**_'Well, I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free._ **

**_But those people keep a movin' and that's what tortures me..._ **

**_Well, if they freed me from this prison,_ **

**_If that railroad train was mine,_ **

**_I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line...'_ **

_'Folsom Prison Blues' - Johnny Cash_

Weapon inspections were routine after every simulation, exercise and battle. Their intended purpose was to keep the equipment in prime functioning condition. A misfired blaster could stun a trooper or even kill them if the weapon was on a high setting. A flame thrower explosion could wipe out more than a few soldiers and a malfunctioning riot control baton could short out and disable the wielder's entire armor system. Such incidents would cost lives, yes. But more importantly, they could cost a battle or a strategic foothold and then everyone would pay.

ZL-U58 waited seemingly patiently as her F-11D Blaster Rifle was disengaged, dismantled and the blast count logged. Still in full uniform, she shifted to her other foot in a slow and subtle move and behind her helmet, exhaled slowly. It was always prudent to show little of how one felt when amongst superiors and the Ordnance Officers were no exception. But under the body armor and the skinsuit beneath it, she was overheated, her body throbbing in a few spots from hits that hadn't penetrated the white plastoid, but had left bruises behind from the blow. The temperature controls in her suit were malfunctioning, the black suit clinging to her miserably hot skin, but she hadn't yet been able to report the issue. It likely wouldn't be repaired anytime soon. It was her duty to adjust to personal discomforts in the field.

As sweat dripped in a slow line from the tightly coiled blue hair at her nape and all the way down her spine, her helmeted head turned, tilted slightly as she spotted FN-2187 again, this time in the company of the imposing form of the Captain. FN-2187 was standing at another Ordnance table, his weapon in the hands of one of the inspectors, dismantled already. Phasma bent, plucked up the blast counter and held it beneath the helmeted head of the chastised Stormtrooper. Beneath her helmet, ZL-U58 sucked in a breath, her eyes tightening with worry. Had he shot at all? He'd been distraught, regretful about the dispatching of the villagers. Had he refused to fire...?

"ZL-U58, your weapon passes inspection. Take it and yourself to barracks. You are off duty." The crisp voice of the Ordnance officer had her tearing her attention off of FN-2187. She snapped to and nodded tightly. "Very good, Sir. Thank you." Taking the F-11D off of the table, she holstered it across her back, then gratefully jogged away from the Ordnance station. Her attention swung over as a gleaming flash of armor passed through her line of vision and she watched the Captain stride away in the opposite direction. FN-2187 was walking away from the inspection table, his pace much slower than her own had been moments ago.

If he was indeed in some sort of trouble, under some sort of observation for his actions on Jakku, it wouldn't be in her best interests to seek him out and risk being targeted herself for an internal review. She was loyal, consistently made good marks and had been slated recently for a potential promotion from ground assault to sniper, a promotion she badly wanted to go through. ZL-U58 had not busted ass for the last ten years since entering full combat at the age of eighteen to just lose it over a friendship.

She wrestled with herself for all of thirty seconds, then reasoned that if she could talk to him, give him some encouragement...it could only work in her and the Order's favor. Satisfied with that internal assurance, she changed directions and jogged towards him.

"Internal temp controls are busted," she muttered as soon as she got up beside him. "What say we get the hell out of uniform and get something cold to drink and some chow? I have some of that jerky in my bunk. That spicy stuff you like?" She kept her tone light, friendly as her and FN-2187 had always been friendly with each other. At one point in the past, she'd considered trying to tempt him into something a little friendlier, but his lack of interest had kept it platonic, totally friend-zoning her. She'd let it go, with only a little bit of regret.

"Can't," he replied shortly and beneath his helmet, she heard that same uneasy, erratic breathing. Her head cocked, eyeing him closely enough to see that his gait was jerky, his gloved fingers flexing closed, flexing open. It was easy to imagine the vibration coming off of him and into the air, waves of anxiety and nerves. "I'm being sent to re-conditioning." The way it came out of him was a rush, as if he wanted the words to be spat from his mouth as quickly as possible. If it had been mere annoyance, it wouldn't have bothered her. No one enjoyed re-conditioning...it was a measure taken when a soldier began to show signs of non-conformity. Just a precaution, to make certain they kept what was truly important in the forefront of their minds.

But it wasn't annoyance. It was fear, it was...disgust. Concern had her making a split-second decision and with a glance towards Ordnance as they left it behind and a sighting down of the corridor ahead, she hooked her hand under his elbow and gave him a yank. Catching him off-guard, FN-2187 cursed under his breath, began to pull back, but ZL-U58 was already pulling him through a refresher door.

Letting it fall shut behind her, she lifted her hands to unseal her helmet and pull it off. Cool air rushed over her sweaty skin and she exhaled roughly in relief. Moving to one of the sanitizers, she set her helmet on the sink edge, then peered down the line of steamers and sonic showers, listening for the sound of any other occupants, but it was quiet save for the bubbling of the steamers and the faint dripping of water from a shower someone had used earlier. Satisfied, she turned to face him.

"What's going on? You were shaky on the transpo. You're shaky now and don't tell me it was Slip dying. It's bad, but...you and I both know going in people we like are gonna die." It was harsh, but all too true. FN-2187 might have been new to battle, fresh from Sanitation, but he knew what could, what  _would_  happen in a ground assault. She turned and braced herself over the sink, staring for a moment at her face, her ruddy pink skin even redder than usual from overheating, the blue hair plastered in unappealing sweaty ringlets to her temples and neck. She grunted, then turned on the sanitizer and scooped the chemical-scented filter water over her face and along her coiled braids.

Behind her, ZL-U58 heard the harsh breathing of her friend as he yanked off his own helmet. Her face dripping, she turned, wiping away water with the back of one hand and stared at him as he simply bent over, hands on knees, and closed his eyes, as if concentrating on pulling in one breath after another. He stayed like that a long moment while the tension spread through her body and tightened a knot in her stomach.

"This is wrong," he finally said. "All of it. Wrong."

ZL-U58 forgot about drying her face and stepped forward, water trickling down into the neck of her skinsuit. "What is wrong?" She asked lowly, but she already knew what he was going to say and that knot in her belly only grew.

"This!" She flinched at the roar of his voice. "All of this! You, me...every one of us...we're just  _machines_ , 58! We eat and we sleep and we shit when they tell us to and now we  _kill_  when they tell us to! Those people...some of them weren't even armed. There were  _kids_! And we just...put holes in them.  _Damn_  it!" He turned and kicked a shower door hard enough to send it off its track. Water blasted on in the stall.

ZL-U58 ignored the damage and rounded on him, getting in his face, her stomach killing her and something like panic beginning to well up inside her.

"This is what we are, 87! This is who we are! We are in the  _right,_ we are the loyal ones! If we're asked to do things that are questionable, it's best to  _not_  question them. And I have been doing this far longer than you and I can tell you that this galaxy will never have peace, will never have any kind of order if we can't put it right again! I don't  _enjoy_  killing children...but better those children die now then suffer later in a world of anarchy and chaos." As it came out of her mouth, she knew that some detached part of her mind was repulsed by such a philosophy, but she couldn't find it in herself to truly disagree.

"Listen to yourself, 58!" FN-2187 shoved forward, grasped her by her shoulder pauldrons and shook her, his sweat-slicked face inches from her own. "You had a family like me once. You don't remember them, but I've heard we came into the academy at the same time. We weren't born into this like a lot of us are. So you had a family and what do you think happened to that family, huh? What, 58? You think they just...handed you over? No, of course they didn't! They were probably slaves and had no choice or they  _were_  free and you were just ripped away from them. What does that tell you, 58?"

He shook her again and this time she threw up an elbow, blocked his arm and shoved him away, taking several steps back from him. The panic was undeniable now and it was nausea churning in her aching belly as the words came out of her in harsh, staccato rhythm.

"It tells me the Order knew best...I'm an alien, 87! You think I would have lived free for very long, being female, being a Zeltron? The Order  _saved_  me, they gave me a home and a purpose and a reason for being. We're part of something greater than ourselves, you and I. We are going to make things  _right._ "

She had no idea how animated her face became when she spoke of the First Order, of her role in it, how her eyes lit up and her smile went bright. But FN-2187 saw it and he shook his head, began slowly backing away from her, picking up his helmet.

"I thought you were at least a little different, 58. Just a  _shred_  different. You helped Slip, but...you're just as crazy as Hux, as Ren. We're gonna die, you know...if it's not the Resistance, it'll be the Order itself, the minute we mess up." He pointed at her, his lips pressed thin, his jaw tight. "The minute we don't please or show  _non-conformity_ , we're as good as dead because then we're complications, not assets. I probably won't even make it out of re-conditioning without tripping off more red flags. I'm getting out...I'm not dying like this," he muttered quietly, as if talking to himself. ZL-U58 stepped up, her hand outstretched to him.

"Don't do this...don't be stupid. You're my friend." She drew to a halt on her own words, staring at the stricken look on the other soldier's face, at the raw pain in it as he said:

"So was Slip. And they didn't even get his body, 58."

And on that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the refresher with just her bedraggled reflection and his words playing through her head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now there are no relationship tags, though I wouldn't be adverse to it at some point. I would rather let the story tell itself for now.  
> I will update as often as I can between work and getting my Masters.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the frying pan into the fryer.

**_"Hello darkness, my oldfriend,_ **

**_I've come to talk with you again._ **

**_Because a vision softly creeping,_ **

**_Left its seeds while I was sleeping..._ **

_\- 'The Sound of Silence' Simon & Garfunkel_

"The Resistance Pilot. Simple, straightforward beating is not working. The man is not breaking and I do not have the time to waste on getting answers. Are these truly the best hammers in your division?"

In one of the cells just a door beyond where the Resistance Pilot in question was being held, General Hux paced. His thin, wiry form moved cagily, with pent-up energy under the rigidly pressed and starched uniform. He was pale, the ginger hair combed back from his face too bright, with a chin some might call weak. Looking at him as a whole, one might have said he _did_ appear weak. Till one looked in the eyes. His eyes were the cold, empty ones of a predator that was contemplating its next kill.

The woman who watched him pace was very familiar with Hux's true nature and chose her words carefully and precisely, but with confidence behind them as they issued from behind the reflective chrome helmet.

"General, the two soldiers that have been working him over are the best. If you are going for sheer brutality and pain as an incentive. It is what they have been trained in. In conjunction with Interrogation Droids, I have found that interchanging sessions of beatings with injections and the more delicate torture the droids can provide produces the best results. I have not encountered a subject that can hold up under this program for very long before breaking."

Captain Phasma, her own true name long since erased from her memory, knew it wasn't what the General wanted to hear. She had chosen the two Stormtroopers carefully and their failure reflected upon her own performance. And she was always careful to precisely nourish and foster her performance. It wasn't common for a female to hold a position such as hers and put her under greater scrutiny. In the past, within the Empire, women had served in almost every capacity, _except_ the Infantry division.

"Well, Captain, _this_ _one_ is not breaking," Hux hissed as he paced by Phasma again. "You will need to do better."

"General, perhaps at this point it would be prudent to call in Kylo Ren…" The words were no more out of her mouth before Hux was spinning on his heel and sending her a cutting glare.

"And risking losing the prisoner and all his knowledge when Ren becomes overwrought and has one of his tantrums?" His lip curled in a sneer, his dislike, if not outright hatred, of the Dark Jedi more than apparent. "The man has no sense of patience. He rides on rage and impulse and if he loses control, we are out a _very_ valuable prisoner and likely an Interrogation Droid, a holding cell and possibly your two brutalizers."

"Very well. There is a soldier in my division that is a Zeltron. Her species is capable of influencing the emotions of others as well as reading emotion very well. They are empaths and their hormonal makeup can make them very likeable. Trustworthy. As far as I am aware, she has never made conscious use of her genetics, but the abilities themselves were never programmed out of her. In case they ever became useful." It didn't bear mentioning that the near-human species was a gullible one and didn't withstand negative emotions well. Most of that would have been long subdued in the woman's programming and conditioning.

"An _alien_? Why was I not aware of this? Are we so desperate as to become like the Republic and take in the galaxy's riff-raff and trash now? Blast…nevermind. Just get her and bring her here. If she fails, then…" He exhaled on a faint growl beneath his breath. "Then we will send for Ren."

* * *

Head bowed, hands braced on the wall of the steamshower stall, ZL-U58 stared down at the water circling the drain, faintly tinged with the blood that had oozed from the scattering of scrapes in her flesh from the battle. The temperature was set as high as possible as the water moved in a circuit, steam to vapor to droplets and back again, turning her hair in to inky blue ropes and flushing her red skin even darker. Her eyes closed as she, again, replayed the confrontation between her and FN-2187 through her head.

_It's just an anomaly. Re-conditioning is the best thing for him, then he'll be back to normal and it'll be like this never happened._

There were stories among the Stormtroopers that, rarely, this would happen. A slip in training, too much anti-Order propaganda, old stories of the Empire's fall, a flaw somewhere in the code of a soldier. They weren't infallible and neither was the training they were given. Gratitude towards the organization that had brought them out of a meaningless, mundane, maybe even miserable life and into one of grand, glorious purpose could falter, could allow the influence of the enemy in. They were, after all, just human. Or in her case, near human.

FN-2187 would get past this. Her friend would return to normal and they would move on.

On a sigh, she slapped the controls to the steamshower off and gathered her hair, wringing it out over one shoulder. Gathering her personal issue of multi-purpose soap and body sponge, she stepped out of the stall and padded naked towards the drying tubes set in the opposite wall. Not wishing to look like a blue-furred Wampa in an electrical storm, ZL-U58 worked her hair into a thick damp braid, then stepped into the tube for a quick whirl in the dry, heated air.

She was just buckling her belt over the division issue off-duty gear of gray tunic and leggings when the refresher doors opened and two other Stormtroopers, fully geared, stepped in. Tugging her belt in place, recognizing higher rank, she turned and still in bare feet, snapped into a rigid salute.

"At ease, ZL-U58. Finish dressing and accompany us to Holding Cell 4. Captain Phasma and General Hux require your presence." The red-pauldron speaking gestured towards her boots. "Leave your armor. It will be seen to. Look sharp, U58!"

She had been staring, her face slack and blank, but her mouth snapped shut and quickly bent and yanked on the basic issue black boots, stashed her hygiene tote in her armor, then moved to follow them. Her mind working furiously, sweat breaking out under her hairline. Phasma had given her orders on any number of times, but never one on one. And General Hux had never even glanced in her direction. _What the hell did I do?_

* * *

"Your duty in this matter is clear to you, ZL-U58?"

She was in another holding cell, an empty one. Present was the Captain, General Hux and the silent, dark figure of Kylo Ren. Only General Hux had spoken and it had become swiftly apparent that he did _not_ want Ren in on this gathering. Hux pointedly ignored the other man and only spoke to Captain Phasma when ZL-U58's role was being explained to the Zeltron woman.

Being underneath the pale, reptilian eyes of General Hux was not a comfortable place. Mouth dry, she nodded. A lie. She was not clear _at all._ Interrogate a prisoner? Her? Not even interrogate, but just _question_. Be…nice. Sympathetic, understanding, compassionate. These were things she was capable of, of course. To the right individuals. But to _Resistance scum?_ It turned her stomach.

"Your species is capable of this task. You'll do it. Earn his trust, make him like you. You're reasonably attractive…" Hux's lip curled, falsifying his words. "For an _alien_. Republic and Resistance filth are not picky. Pretend you're another prisoner if you have to. One that we're using to convince him."

She nodded, her tongue thick. Stars…this was not going to work. She was a Zeltron in appearance only. Perhaps these genetic traits were there, inherently, but she had never _used_ them. Keeping her face carefully neutral, her gaze briefly shot over to Phasma, but the other woman was silent.

Hux gave a significant clearing of his throat and had ZL-U58's head whipping back front and center towards the General. His nostrils flared as he regarded her cooly, then he said, in a reasonable tone: "Don't make me regret having alien filth in my ranks. Get that information." His pale eyes narrowed speculatively. "You need to look like a prisoner."

Spoken as such an off-handed observation, the sudden, sharp leatherclad back-hand came as a shock. Her head whipped to the side, pain exploding through her jaw, disorientating her. Staring towards the interrogation panel as she regained her composure, tasting blood that bloomed in the corner of her mouth, her startled eyes met the expressionless, battered helm of Ren. He merely cocked his head and tapped two impatient fingers against the arms folded across his chest. Kylo Ren straightened and prowled with ill-concealed fury past her and towards the door. His words rumbled out through the mouthpiece.

"General, when this ill-conceived plan fails, you will send for me. You waste Supreme Leader Snoke's time with sending this alien to play nice with the prisoner. Why not send her in with a tea-tray and refreshments while you're at it?"

The door slid shut behind Ren as he stalked out and ZL-U58 repressed a shudder as she straightened, wiping at the blood seeping from the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"I'll do my best, General," she said flatly, hiding her utter lack of confidence in being able to do so.

Seething at Ren, gloved fists clenching till the leather creaked, General Hux pinned the alien in place with that pale-eyed stare. "See that you do," he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you are interested in learning more about the Zeltron race, check out Wookiepedia and make sure to click on Legends. It goes into far greater detail than the Canon description.
> 
> As the events in this story start impacting the events in the film more and more, please keep in mind that this a sort of 'behind the scenes' telling. For now, the impact on the actual events in TFA will be minimal. ZL-U58 is not meant to be a story changing character, but an added element and a point of view that I hope readers will enjoy.
> 
> Thanks for all the Kudos and the comments!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets.

_**"Something's are better left unsaid,** _   
_**But I've been, here dying, to get it off my chest,** _   
_**The pressure digs in deep...** _   
_**So I've been, here holding, secrets, I can't keep.."** _

_'Keeping Secrets' - Sound We Sleep_

* * *

ZL-U58 was lead to the cell where the Resistance pilot was being held. She was escorted there not by Captain Phasma or General Hux, but by two massively built Stormtroopers. Their ID numbers were unknown to her, but she recognized from those IDs and the pauldrons of their armor that they outranked her and served underneath the Captain directly.

At the door, she nearly lifted her hand to wipe at the blood from her busted mouth but she stopped herself, lowered her fingers back to her side in a loose fist. General Hux had ordered her to leave the damage untouched for a more pleasing effect.

After Kylo Ren had departed, General Hux, boiling with temper, had struck her a few more times. Her lip was now fully busted, her nose dripping blood, one of her eyes was swelling shut, and a bruise would soon be darkening her jaw. Her face was a symphony of pain, but she hadn't asked for a blocker. Or even been phased after that first, startling backhand. Her initial reaction had been shock...then the quick wash of embarrassment that Phasma and Ren had _seen_ that shock. She was a well-trained weapon, a soldier with an untarnished record of devotion and strong performance. Not one to be easily dismayed over rough treatment. Especially rough treatment that was a means to an end when the First Order needed answers. It wasn't personal.

And yet, a sly voice whispered through her head, it had certainly felt personal, especially after Hux's visible frustration with the Dark Jedi. One had to wonder if it hadn't been Ren's masked face he had seen while applying the bruises.

The holding cell ZL-U58 was lead to was quiet, a thick quiet, like the room held its breath. Then the figure strapped into the interrogation chair shifted and the sound was a rattle of blood in the lungs.

His interrogators hadn't yet used kolto packs to mend the damage and revive their subject between beatings.

The door to the holding cell hissed shut as ZL-U58 stepped forward and towards the restrained Resistance Pilot. Through her blood-clotted nose, she inhaled a breath in slowly. She knew what her race was capable of, what the Zeltron were often used for – situations much like this one – but it was still a foreign idea to think about trying to do so herself. She had never read another person's emotions before, certainly never had a reason to.

And yet…hadn't she _felt_ others emotions in the past? She slowed, frowning at the bloodied face of the prisoner. His eyes were closed. He wasn't yet aware of her presence. Hadn't she been told in reviews and performance exams that one of her valuable traits was the ability to read a situation quickly and act accordingly? Was the real key to her high marks in that area the inherent qualities of an empath? She had _felt_ FN-2187's anxiety and fear and despair only just today…and had reacted to those emotions, recalling the sick twist in her belly, the growth of her own anxiety as the other Stormtrooper's emotions had rolled over her.

The sound of creaking leather and the rattle of air through damaged lungs drew her eyes up and to the prisoner again. This time he was awake. And studied ZL-U58 through dark eyes under heavy brows, bruises blackening one and blood spreading across the surface of another.

"Sending me pretty blue-haired ladies now, huh? No offense, gorgeous…but that isn't gonna make me talk, either." Through the whistling of his broke nose, his speech was slightly slurred, but he brought up a smile. A surprisingly charming smile, considering the circumstances.

Then she stepped forward, into a pool of the light from the panels overhead and he got a good look at her battered face. He hissed softly and she felt it…disgust. Not aimed at her. But disgust and anger running underneath it.

Perfect.

"Why am I not surprised these bastards would smash in a woman's face…?" He questioned it softly, but ZL-U58 took it as a rhetorical question. Quelling her own nerves, pushing them down, she moved towards him to let him get a good look at the simple clothing of her off-duty issue.

"Other rebel fighters are on this Destroyer, Poe Dameron. Gender doesn't exclude any of us from interrogation." This time, she did lift her hand, swipe at the blood slowly seeping from her nose. It was clotting, making breathing difficult. Her hand closed around the blood and thinking, stepped closer to him. A suggestion of lines had been given to her…but ZL-U58 was no actress and her mind drew a blank as she felt something new and that was his guilt.

Good. Perhaps it did not stem from the same situation, but she was glad he felt the weight of guilt. Good soldiers had died because of him tonight. She let herself think of FN-2003, the man she'd known as Slip and the grief and confusion FN-2187 had felt tonight. The grief and confusion that had made him question himself and the First Order. She moved to the pilot's side as he remained silent, his jaw tensing as his dark, troubled eyes sought out her own.

"I can't talk. You know that…if you're with us, you know that. I'm sorry…" He breathed out and the pain from broken ribs was hideous, making his head swim with agony. Poe shifted, made himself look into the pale eyes of the blue-haired woman. A Zeltron, with that red-pink skin…a memory about one he had met in the past danced across the back of his brain, but through the pain he couldn't bring it forward, couldn't focus on something he should've remembered about them.

"The others aren't aware of what you were doing in that village on Jakku. But being rebels is enough to warrant this." She gestured to her battered face. "Please…if you know something, _tell_ them." On inspiration, she laid her hand on his and his tension was palpable through the clenching fist, the tremor there in the veins running under tanned skin. She met his eyes and stared into them. _Try to influence his emotions…make him calm. Make him trust you. You can do this, you can do this..._

She focused on being calm, soothed, quieted, peaceful, all the while staring into his eyes. Imagined taking that calming, gentle peace and blanketing him with it, covering him with it. Dark eyes bore into hers, blood swimming in them and she saw the pain, the fear, the guilt…the need to stay silent, to keep his secrets. His determination, his resolve was palpable. She pushed gently. _Relax…just let go…it's okay to just let go and be at peace…_

His eyes widened, pupils dilating and his split lips softened, his jaw gradually relaxing. She saw a tic in his cheek as he swallowed, his shoulders rising with tension, then lowering inch by inch. The anxiety, she realized with a jolt of exhilarating triumph, was fleeing that handsome, but battered face. The clenched hand beneath her hand flexed once more, then slowly released, fingers spreading loose.

ZL-U58 smiled.

Something like victory must have passed briefly through her eyes.

The prisoner jerked, head snapping back like he'd been struck again.

" _Nooooo!"_

His roar of denial had her stepping back, the hatred on his face, the force of volatile emotions sending her back another few steps.

"Zeltron! They sent you in here! You stay the hell out of my head, lady…why would you let yourself be _used_ like that?! You're not their whore…fight them, damn you…have some _pride_ in what you are!"

ZL-U58 stared at him, stricken. He had realized what she was doing and seen through the betrayal…and still thought she was on his side? That kind of…goodness, that kind of trust was completely foreign to her.

The door behind her hissed open and the two big Stormtroopers rushed in. She was shoved out of the way, lost her footing as she fell into the wall behind her and caught herself, slapping her hands against the cell wall. Poe Dameron was twisting in his restraints, then crying out as fists were driven into his gut, one into his face. And still, he fixed his eyes on her even as they beat him.

"You go down figh—gah! Fighting…You're not a tool, Blue! Don't let th—" He was cut off by spitting up blood and ZL-U58 felt a hand wrap around her wrist, yank her up and around, through the door.

Startled, her eyes still on the door that slid shut on the cries of pain, she felt a clutch around her throat and jaw and her face was roughly lifted. She stared at the impassive metal helmet of Kylo Ren and saw her own horrified expression in his visor.

"Obviously, you've failed." His rumbled words had her mouth shutting, her eyes shuttering over the horror and going blank. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow. And harder to swallow yet was the traitorous rush of pity she had felt when her fellow soldiers had begun beating the already injured, unarmed and helpless pilot.

"Yes, Sir. I failed." She swallowed against his gloved hand around her throat, watched the control slip back over her face in her reflection. She felt naked and dissected as he leaned down, the helmet drawing closer to her face.

"It troubles you…" She barely heard the low, curious murmur behind the helmet, words that were meant for her ears only. "But is it your failure that troubles you or the words of the prisoner?" ZL-U58 felt a quick clench of panic. If Ren had been watching, listening, then so had Captain Phasma, so had General Hux. But before she could summon up an explanation, she was being released with a careless push towards the corridor. Ren disappeared into the cell.

ZL-U58 stood in the corridor a moment longer, fingers rising to press against her throbbing temple, then she was jogging away, towards the barracks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to all the Poe fans for the feels. It had to be done. Thanks again for all the reviews and the favorites, the follows. It's a thrill to see it every time.
> 
> If you're interested in another Zeltron character, Deliah Blue was a major character in the Star Wars:Legacy of the Force comics and can be found on the Wookiepedia under LEGENDS. (Just do not google Delilah Blue...as she is a pornstar. Found that out the hard way while at work. :/ )


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking down.

**_"You could still be,_ **   
**_what you want to,_ **   
**_What you said you were,_ **   
**_when I met you._ **

**_You've got a warm heart,_ **   
**_you've got a beautiful brain._ **   
**_But it's disintegrating,_ **   
**_from all the medicine…"_ **

' _Medicine' - Daughter_

The _Finalizer_ was a massive ship.

It was entirely possible to see a face aboard the huge Destroyer, spend an entire week on the starship and never run into that particular face again. The anonymity was complete when one's role was that of a Stormtrooper and being out of uniform – helmet included – without permission was a serious breach of conduct. Her fellow soldiers might see her out of uniform and know the distinctive vibrant pink skin and obvious blue hair, but non-infantry personnel and ranking officers would never realize that the alien woman was one of Captain Phasma's men. They were more likely to assume she was a low-level maintenance drone.

The lack of recognition suited her mood just fine.

Distressed was an adequate description of how ZL-U58 felt at that very moment. It was a very unfamiliar and uneasy sensation for a woman that had always enjoyed a regimented, unemotional, sensible outlook on life and her role in it. While the Darkside might fuel itself upon passions and volatile emotions, the parts and pieces of the whole that was a Stormtrooper did not function in such a way.

Duty. Obedience. Loyalty. Discipline. Distressed was _not_ one of those four tenements. She swallowed a deep mouthful of air and realizing she was nearing the mess hall, hearing the hum of several hundred voices released from duty and enjoying evening chow, ZL-U58 slowed. The scent of food on the air didn't tempt her churning stomach, so she turned on her heel, changing course, and headed instead towards the personal quarters of her division. She did not want company right now.

The interrogation itself had opened up something inside of her. It was like a healing wound, one that had been forgotten. Still there, underneath her skin. Tender to the touch, hot with an infection that threatened to grow if it wasn't treated. It was emotion. Or rather…the feeling of it in another, the sensing of it and the effect it had upon her.

ZL-U58 paused outside the door to the infantry personal quarters and stared unseeingly at the palm panel, then just closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers firmly over her brow.

The Resistance Pilot. Poe Dameron. She had let herself open up to get the job done and break his hold on his secrets. Instead, he had nearly broken _her._ She had felt it, all of it: the hideous pain of broken ribs, the way his skull felt like it might burst from the blows to his head, the determination to keep his friends safe, the worry and fear that he wouldn't.

At the time, those emotions and the sensing of them had helped her with her purpose. Turning his concern for others against him, using them to weaken his resolve. It had been her orders and therefore, the right thing to do. Then the attempts to drape her influence over him, to calm him, had failed and he had seen through the deception.

But not entirely. No, not entirely. By the Maker, he had _believed_ her story, shouted at her to be strong even as her fellow soldiers had beat his already battered and broken body. Who was that gullible? Who was that _kind?_ All that pain, all that suffering and it had only made him kinder.

She felt sick…sick in gut, sick in heart. Guilt, an emotion she had only passing acquaintance with, tore at her. And Kylo Ren had seen it. Stars help her. There was no one worse to have inside her head than _that_ man.

The headache brewing behind her skull made her just want to find her bunk and sleep away the next several hours. Opening her eyes, ZL-U58 straightened and palmed herself into the barracks. Inside, she headed for her bunk, just one of many built into the room and stacked three high. She was of sufficient standing to have the added luxury of being a top bunk. Even with a layer of alloy, synthweave covered mattress and bedroll between the bunk mates, an odiferous fellow trooper could ruin a good night of sleep.

Her dry and aching throat reminded her that though she might not be hungry, she _was_ thirsty and the blood beginning to cake on her bruised face was cracking and itching. She needed water.

ZL-U58 changed course for the locker room and refresher set towards the back of the ship barracks. The barracks were quiet, dark and empty with her own and the other divisions in the mess hall having chow. The absolute quiet and the darkness would help her mind clear, she reasoned. Wash up, lay down for a power nap, wake up with a fresh perspective. Wasn't it very unlikely that, after her failure today, her superiors would hesitate to use her Zeltron traits again? _Stars, I hope so._ She didn't want to be split open like that again.

As she reached for the panel to open the locker room and refresher door, it opened on its own accord and she was face to face with FN-2187, the light from the locker room washing into the barracks. ZL-U58 frowned, eyes traveling him from head to toe.

"Second time today we've been in the john together. Re-conditioning?" She asked quietly, tipping her head to the side. He exhaled a long breath, then just shrugged. He was still in uniform, save for the helmet held underneath one arm. His face, what she could see of it in the dim light behind her, was calmer than before. But his eyes were still too wide and as he stood there looking down at her, she saw that his jaw was clenching and unclenching.

"It was re-conditioning. A couple hours of being reminded why we do what we do, pep talk with a nice little syringe at the end to make sure it all sticks…" His jaw worked again, his face still flat and expressionless and it struck ZL-U58 that his mind was fighting his body. His body was surrendering to the combination of neuro-stimulants that helped a Stormtrooper to better absorb re-conditioning: his mind was resisting…and probably at great personal cost. Resisting the effects of re-conditioning could cause nausea, headaches, mood swings…

"Go back inside…I need to wash my face and get some water." She ducked her head and squeezed in past him in her off-duty issue and moved to a sink. "Get a shower, 87. Then go have a couple hours downtime. You'll feel better when you wake up." _It'll all make more sense when you wake up._ Just like she hoped it would for her, too.

"What happened to your face?'

Over the running of the water, she just barely heard his question. Unfolding a sanitation wipe from the dispenser, she paused, staring down at the wipe, then lifted it to her face and began to scrub it over the scrapes and splits in her pink skin. It burned badly enough to make her eyes water up.

"The Captain suggested that I assist in interrogating the Resistance Pilot. General Hux thought it best I appear like a fellow prisoner." She wiped hard at one gash just running through one of her slashing blue brows and shut her eyes at the burn, then dragged the sanitizing wipe under her nose to clean up the blood that had been clotting. Her nose had already been slightly crooked from being broke before, so she pressed in at the bridge until she heard the faint pop of it shifting back into place.

"They needed to make you look like a prisoner…to get answers out of the Pilot…" He repeated slowly, behind her. "And to do that, they beat the hell out of you?"

Insulted, ZL-U58 glared at him in the mirror, the wipe clutched in her hand. "Knocking on my face a bit is _hardly_ beating the hell out of me, 87. Give me some fucking credit. It was a few good hits. I've had a lot worse."

"That's not the point!"His shout made her lower the cloth, clutch it to her waist. The emotions from him came in one fierce wave: Anger, panic, fear. She swallowed, tried to clamp down on that part of her that was now so wide open to other people's pain, to cut it off. "The point is you're a loyal soldier without a bad mark to your name, but they couldn't find any way to work this out other than put a fist in your face? A good soldier means so damn little to them?" In the mirror, she watched him turn and begin to pace in a stiff and anxious gait.

"I agreed to it. It's my duty to help the Order in whatever way they deem that I'm needed. You know what I am, what my race can do. I should be honored that Captain Phasma thought of me. But it doesn't matter, seeing as how I failed and he saw through it. My own fault, I should have maintained. Should have just kept it up. Kylo Ren was sent in after me to break him…" She trailed off at the anxiety on the air, a mounting frustration and a burst of hate. She felt the terror that was running under the hate, the desperate panic the terror was building up inside him.

She was witnessing the breaking down of a soldier.

"I have to go," FN-2187 said hoarsely, shaking his head. "They used you, like you're just a whore for them." His words made her flinch, echoing Poe Dameron's very words, but she doubted FN-2187 saw her the hurt flash through her. He was spiraling too deeply into his own. "They use all of us. We're just numbers, we're not even people to them, 58. just toys to play with and step on and leave behind when we break."

"You can't just go," she tried to speak reasonably, setting down the cloth and moving towards him. "This is your home, 87. Where would you even go? You belong here. Maybe you just need another round of re-con-"

FN-2187 lunged towards her, took her shoulders in a grip that managed to still be gentle. His dark eyes bore down into her own until he finally shook his head slowly. ZL-U58's eyes widened, then fell shut on a fresh wave of tears that had nothing to do with her wounds as her friend pressed a kiss to her brow. He was trembling, his breath shuddering over her face from the force of his emotions. "I can't stay here," he whispered against her brow. "Not when everything in me is just…coming apart. If I stay, I'm going to die. Because I'll die before I ever open fire on innocent people again." He released her and spun around, heading for the doors. "You said Ren went into the Pilot's cell…if I'm lucky he's not a brain-dead mess and can still fly…"

The knowledge of what he was going to do hit her like another fist to the face. With dawning horror, ZL-U58 shoved off from the sink, following him.

"Don't do this, don't do this!" There was real panic in her voice, in her belly like a coil of eels, in her throat hot and aching, rising upward. "87, don't do this!" She chased him, hands reaching, but they were damp from cleaning up her face and slid right off the surface of his armor. "Please, 87! You can't do this! They'll never stop hunting you! And _I'll_ have to hunt you and I don't know if I have the strength to do that!" But he wasn't stopping, he wasn't slowing as he jammed on his helmet with a hiss of the seal and grabbing his weapon from the rack. And beyond the barracks door, she couldn't chase him…Past that door, he would be her enemy.

"Please," she croaked out once more, and the weakness in her own voice made her ashamed. She drew a deep breath past the knot in her throat and made herself look at him, look at what he was doing. He was running away from his duty, his loyalties, his _friend._ He was running away from the very Order that had made him. "If you walk out that door and do this, you're doing it as my enemy. You're doing it as a traitor." This time her voice didn't shake or crack.

He slowed, he stopped and stood there, head lowered, weapon in his hand. Finally, he turned back towards her and she saw her rigid reflection in his helmet.

"Stay out of the main docking bay, 58." Then the door was hissing open and he was through it and gone.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points to Gryffindor if you caught the muddled Doctor Who reference in this chapter.
> 
> My chapters might be coming slower as my classes start back up on Monday, but I will still be updating as regularly as I can. At LEAST once a week, if not twice.
> 
> Someone had asked me in a PM why ZL-U58 isn't a FN. That will be explained in a later chapter. Thanks so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks. I appreciate them so much.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severing ties.

**_"Skyfall is where we start..._ **   
**_A thousand miles and poles apart._ **   
**_Where worlds collide and days are dark._ **   
**_You may have my number, you can take my name..._ **   
**_But you'll never have my heart."_ **

_'Skyfall' - Adele_

_He would never get away with it._

ZL-U58 comforted herself with that knowledge over the next half hour. She occupied her brain with the mindless evening routine of cleaning her armor, buffing out the scuffs, filling in the gouges with plastoid foam and smoothing the repair out. The busted temp regulators were out of her control, so she plugged in a maintenance request on her wrist unit, threw her skin suit in the garment refresher for a quick spin and dry. Though her weapon had been broken down in inspection, she broke it down again, cleaning it this time until it gleamed. She made up for her missed dinner chow with a supplement bill and a contraband Bantha Milk Chocolate Chewey Gooey Bar.

The routine that she stuck to every night (minus the Chewey Gooey) should have soothed ZL-U58, made her feel the comforting wind-down she enjoyed at the end of night before it was lights out. But nothing eased the burning in her gut from worry, the throb at her left temple from the anxiety headache. Even though FN-2187 had departed the room, she could still _feel_ those emotions of his and the stain they had left on the air.

By the time that her skinsuit was dry and hung up alongside her now gleaming plastoid armor and her weapon was hung back up in its rack, she was still unsettled and her stomach was a little sick from the Chewey Gooey bar. Deciding to take her mood and her bellyache to bed, ZL-U58 headed for the bunk room, her steps dragging with fatigue.

There was nothing she could do for FN-2187. He would never get to the Resistance Pilot, not if Ren was working him over, let alone get himself and Poe Dameron to a ship and escape the _Finalizer._ He'd go down for this. Execution or tossed into a prison to slowly rot away. The First Order had taken a page from the Empire's book on incarceration. They were absolute hellholes. There was _nothing_ she could do for him.

ZL-U58 repeated that to herself as she unbraided her hair, wincing as her scalp throbbed from how tight she'd had the plait earlier. He had lost his grip on control, had lost sight of everything that he was, everything that he lived and breathed for all the years he could remember of his life. She couldn't, _wouldn't_ go down with him just because she had briefly lost control of her own emotions and felt a moment's pity for that Resistance Pilot.

" _You're not their whore…fight them, damn you…have some pride in what you are!...You go down fighting…you're not their tool, Blue!"_

ZL-U58's head throbbed sharply and she winced, climbing up to her bunk to sit, legs and bare feet dangling over the side. It had to stop, she couldn't let that man's words get into her head, her brain and fuck things up as such thoughts had fucked up FN-2187's. Hair loosened, she speared both hands up into the thick blue waves and pressed her elbows to her knees, head lowered as she let out a long breath.

The quiet hum of the barracks was shredded by a crisp voice booming over the ship's comm system. "All infantry units are to report to the Main Docking Bay at once. I repeat: all infantry units are to report to the Main Docking Bay at once!"

ZL-U58 shut her eyes tight on a moan, her head giving one sickening throb before the headache exploded into full strength.

_What have you done, 87?_

* * *

**Twenty minutes earlier:**

"We can't just leave. There's other prisoners on this ship, rebel prisoners."

"There's no time! Do you want out of here or not? Do you want that guy in the mask to have another shot at your head?"

"You need a pilot. I can fly anything. But we don't leave without them—"

"There _are_ no other prisoners on this ship!"

"Look, they sent a woman in to soften me up. A Zeltron. Someone had beat the hell out of her. I'm not just taking off and leaving Blue and the others to—"

"Her name isn't Blue. It's ZL-U58 and she's another Stormtrooper. Can we go?!"

"No, that's not true. You didn't see her face…the way she looked at me…"

"I just saw her. She called me a traitor as I walked away from her. She's not some victim. We need to go!"

"You know her…?"

"Yeah...She used to be my friend."

* * *

The TIE/sf space superiority fighter, sleek and black and deadly, screamed as it yanked at its restraint. The main docking bay was a scene of mass chaos and destruction as Stormtroopers took cover behind crates of cargo and supplies, turning them into makeshift barriers. Blaster fire turned the light bright as shots ricocheted off the rogue TIE Fighter, made the air stink as metal smoked and sparked.

ZL-U58, in full armor, her F-11D blaster rifle in her grasp, stared in mute horror as the TIE Fighter again dipped low, throttled down, then went screaming up, the tethering restraint nearly snapping. As one of the massive panels lit up in a shower of sparks, the sleek, rounded ship whirled about and twin laser cannons blasted out towards the barriers behind which Stormtroopers were taking fire. White-clad bodies flew up, screams of pain joining the terrible banshee wail of the struggling TIE. FN-2187 was firing on the very soldiers he'd once trained and served with.

She stood there, limbs stiff, feet frozen in place and stared at the carnage, her blaster rifle silent and cold in her hands. If anyone noticed the Stormtrooper not taking a shot, not firing on their enemy, ZL-U58 wasn't aware of it, nor of the ramifications her lack of action could entail. Behind her helmet, her breathing was ragged, burning her lungs her eyes were wide and blank.

With another screaming wail, the TIE Fighter finally broke the tether. ZL-U58 winced as the restraint snapped and fell to the floor of the ship. The sound of it echoed in her brain.

Orders came through her helmet, sharp and clear: "Eliminate the target! Confirmed escaped prisoner and traitor onboard. Eliminate the target!"

No matter what she had felt over the last few hours, the doubt and questioning of what was her world, ZL-U58 was a soldier. She knew where her loyalties lay.

She sucked in one steadying breath, crouched behind a barrier and took aim and fired on what had once been her friend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short. Originally, it was a lot longer, far too long for one chapter. I'm going to put up the rest as Chapter Seven after I finish it up. That chapter should be up by Saturday, providing coursework and the unfortunate being an adult thing doesn't get in the way.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation.

_**"And they all got the same heartbeat, but hers is falling behind...** _

_**Nothing in this world could ever bring them down...** _

_**Yeah, they're invincible and she's just in the background."** _

_'Cool Kids' - Echosmith_

When one's ass was on the line, it was easy to point fingers and try to put the blame onto someone else's shoulders. If the burden of the offense was shared, then the punishment was as well. And perhaps, hopefully, mercifully…the pain would not be so great. No matter what form that pain was in.

General Hux was a fanatical devout to the First Order and to its shrouded in darkness patriarch, Supreme Leader Snoke. He didn't like pain, wished to preserve his own skin, but it was the thought of a demotion that had him now pacing and sweating under the starched and pristine cut of his uniform.

Captain Phasma knew pain was as much a part of a soldier's life as obedience and patience with one's superiors, but it was the idea of not living up to her own high standards that had her carefully monitoring the breathing underneath her helmet.

Kylo Ren, apprentice of Supreme Leader Snoke did not fear pain, but thrived on it, knew power could be derived from it and the follower of the Darkside strengthened by it. But it was the sting of failure, the burn of humiliation that had twin demons of fury and worry coiling in his gut.

The three were gathered in the _Finalizer_ 's conference room, all others shut out to insure privacy. A databank of Phasma's division of Stormtroopers was open on a wall unit and it was FN-2187's dossier that spilled out across the corner of the room, on display.

An hour had passed since the Resistance Pilot and FN-2187 had made their escape off the _Finalizer._ A select team of TIE pilots and ground assault Stormtroopers were being briefed on a second landing on Jakku to track the Pilot, the traitor and the BB-8 unit the Order was hunting. The damage that had been done to the main docking bay was efficiently being set to rights. But there was now other damage that had to be contained.

"This was his first offense." Captain Phasma had already repeated it once, but she did so again, to stress the point that the soldiers in her division didn't simply go rogue without their superior officer taking note of it.

"Which offense?" The rumble of Kylo Ren's voice behind the mask was mild and almost too polite. But both the General and the Captain knew there was a world of temper behind it, emphasized in the faint hiss of the second word. "Choosing to disregard a direct order or releasing a prisoner and absconding with that prisoner in a stolen TIE fighter?"

Hux stepped in, his tone sharp. "FN-2187 has showed absolutely no signs on non-conformity. None of my men do. The programming of the Stormtroopers is fail proof. Their minds, their memories are _wiped_. They are blank slates for us to write upon."

But Ren was rounding on him, the ragged black robes flaring as he loomed over the other man, his head tilting under the cowl.

"General, you told me this programming was instituted at birth. An infant's mind does not need to be wiped of memories. Your stories are not matching up." The deep voice had gone even lower, word spaced apart, a hint of the barely leashed rage running underneath them.

Sensing that violence might soon erupt between the two men and who would most definitely be on the losing end, Captain Phasma stepped up to the data spilling across the wall and pulled up FN-2187's history.

"FN-2187 was taken from his birth parents at a slightly more advanced stage. This is not common, but there are examples of this amongst the ranks that have never exhibited any signs of non-conformity. Sir, I believe that FN-2187 is purely an anomaly and no indication that the program is a failure." She addressed this to Ren, who stared at her for a long moment. His head slowly turned back towards Hux, who pulled himself up to his full height and gave the other man a narrow-eyed stare. That stare held, the tension stretching between the two men until finally Hux broke and gestured sharply to the data with a curled lip.

"Those loyal to the First Order know what a great honor it is to give their offspring up to the service of the Supreme Leader. The child offered to the Order is not always an infant. Minds raised within a true patriot's household are more trainable and malleable, even at an older age." A gleam of malice came into his pale eyes and his lips curled up at the edges as he gazed over at Kylo Ren. "In other situations…there are desirable qualities that cannot be programmed. They must be inherited, passed down through the blood and these qualities constitute a necessity to harvest candidates from other means, once they begin to exhibit these qualities. Surely even you, Ren, understand that it's entirely possible that…" He paused and that malice turned to satisfaction. "Sometimes, bad blood will tell in the end."

The fury was once again palpable, emanating from the black-robed man in hot waves. Ren's hand trembled with the urge to yank his saber hilt from his belt. The thought of sending the shaft of molten light straight through Hux's sneering face was unbelievably seductive. He drew in a two sharp breaths through his nose, exhaled them slowly, then whirled towards the data. Losing control was exactly what Hux _wanted_ him to do.

"Were there any Stormtroopers that FN-2187 was close to? Close enough to have perhaps seen this treason coming, even when his commanding officers did not?"

The chastisement hit close to the mark for both of the others in the room, but more so for the Captain, who moved quickly towards the data to pull up more dossiers. "He trained with FN-2199, FN-2000 and FN-2003. They were part of my most accomplished class. FN-2003 expired in the conflict on Jakku, FN-2000 has been in officer training and has not had contact with FN-2187 as of late. And FN-2199 is unquestionably loyal, to the point of violence against those who are not."

Kylo stared at the data, taking the time to force himself back under control, his gloved hands gripping one another tightly behind his back. "And is there anyone outside of those three, Captain?"

There was the briefest of hesitations, one that General Hux latched onto. He stepped closer, deliberately pushing his shoulder into the chest of Ren, trying to muscle him out of the way. " _Who_ is it, Captain Phasma?"

"The Zeltron female. ZL-U58."

* * *

The rumors were flying, hissing from one mouth to another. There was an underlying current running beneath the divisions of Stormtroopers, an energy of malcontent and anger. It was a very incorrect assumption to think that these soldiers were mindless troops who were no better than flesh-covered droids, without emotions or thoughts of their own. Those thoughts might have been heavily influenced by rigorous programming and conditioning, but they were thoughts regardless and the emotions were running high amongst the ranks. They had just seen one of their own, a comrade, a brother in arms…commit high treasons and then fire on his own fellow soldiers. The cold and broken bodies of over a dozen Stormtroopers were being removed from the floor of the main docking bay.

It was, perhaps, an indication of how strong and successful that programming and conditioning was that it was talk of traitor scum and getting retribution and not whispers of revolution and escape.

If there were those who thought of revolution, of escape…they kept it to themselves.

ZL-U58, desperate for an escape from the whispers, curses and speculation, lost herself in the mindless honing of her body. In the _Finalizer_ 's physical training rooms, she ran on the grav-mill, setting the program for a grueling uphill terrain on a sweltering jungle planet. By the time she hit her stride and her muscles were hot and her body moving fluidly like a well-oiled machine, her stomach had settled from the tension and stress, but her brain was still painfully full of…her friend.

_Former friend_ , she reminded herself and set the program to a short cooldown, but she hopped off before it was even finished. She moved to weights and punished her body through curls, dead lifts and presses before even that wouldn't rid her of the circling thoughts that she should have done _something_ to stop him. Lying back on the bench in her thermal tank and shorts, her muscles trembling, ZL-U58 shut her eyes and flung one arm up and over her face.

She knew she wasn't alone in the room, could hear the clang of weights and the murmur of other Stormtroopers, but she felt alone…isolated and brutally so, carrying the burden of guilt and the impotence of knowing she hadn't done enough to stop FN-2187. The others left her alone, as they so often did. Not many of them, despite being excellent soldiers, had much to say to an alien woman except when they had to or they were drunk enough on off-duty nights to try and find out if she was as adventurous as other Zeltron were.

ZL-U58 had just about decided to sit up and perhaps go pound on a combat droid when a shadow fell over where she lay on the weight bench. Her arm slid away and she peered up into the eyes of the other Stormtrooper that loomed over her.

FN-2199 was built like a brawler, over six feet of him well packed with muscles that were always coiled and ready for a fight. He wore his red hair military short and his blue eyes were all soldier. His aggressive nature and brute strength made him a lethal asset to the riot control Stormtroopers. He was unquestioningly loyal to the First Order, could always be counted on to go through the door with his unit and had been one of the four that had made up FN-2187's training class and a friend to the other man.

87's defection would have been a terrible blow for him.

"I find it funny," he began in a tightly controlled voice that warned ZL-U58 that she wouldn't like what he had to say. "That _you_ were talking to him on the transpo, that _you_ were seen going into the refresher with him." He stared down at her and licked his teeth, then squatted down till he was face to face with her. "And I find it funny that at chow, only you two weren't there."

ZL-U58 snorted disdainfully even as her warmed up muscles began to tighten and tense all over again. She sat up quickly, forcing FN-2199 to either bash skulls with her or draw back himself. Swinging her legs over the side of the bench, she shoved a hand through the messy blue waves coming loose from the knot she'd forced it into earlier. Resting her bare arms down on her knees, hands dangling between her legs, she just arched one slashing brow as she gazed blankly back at him.

"So…just to be clear here. You found it suspicious that a man and a woman disappeared into a refresher together, then skipped out on chow to be alone together? Shocking….what _ever_ could we have been doing?" She tilted her head, fluttered her lashes and the corners of her mouth lifted in a little smirk. Would she throw her own respectability out the window to avoid having such dangerous suspicion cast her way? Absolutely.

But he stared back, his eyes narrowing before they dropped, following the length of her loose hair, over her face, then down, insultingly, over her body. The thermal tank and shorts didn't leave a great deal to the imagination, but they were practical and standard issue, nothing that any other female didn't wear and she had never felt uncomfortable in them before. But now she did and she knew that was his intention.

"I could maybe believe that if you'd ever given anyone else a bang in the refresher, but that's just not your style, 58. That changing suddenly? Decided to be a typical Zeltron whore after all?" Even though she felt zero interest from him despite the way he had let his eyes travel over her, FN-2199 lifted a hand, set it deliberately on the swell of one breast rising above her neckline and squeezed.

In that instant, ZL-U58 saw the dislike settle over his features, felt his disgust at his own actions and knew without a doubt he would still carry it out if he could prove she had become a traitor. Nausea slid greasily through her system as, for one brief moment, she considered playing along to try to dislodge the suspicion from her shoulders. And in the next moment, as insult and rage poured in, she knew she couldn't possibly do it.

She reacted quickly and viciously, head butting him hard with a crack of skulls as she shoved off the bench. Seeing stars, she kicked him dead center of his solar plexus as he stumbled back from the blow to the head. The anger was like a hot, red haze over her vision as FN-2199 lunged to his feet and tackled her. They went flying to the mats, her back hitting first and stealing her breath, giving him enough time to power one fist into her already bruised face. And he didn't hold back unlike General Hux probably had. Pain exploded across her left cheekbone and eye, but ZL-U58 drove her right fist into his ribs, then slammed her thigh up into his groin. A sound of agony escaped his lips and she used his distraction to shove up, send them rolling over the mat until she was straddling the other Stormtrooper. She plunged another fist into his face and drew back for another blow.

It was like being tackled all over again, a powerful blow to her center mass that flung her clean off the other Stormtrooper and sent her flying across the training room. Her back struck the wall with bone-rattling force and sent her sprawling to the floor, breathless and head-spinning. Her entire body ached and shuddered from the impact. Vision wavering, she pressed up on one arm from the floor and peered through her tangled hair at the room. FN-2199 lay in a similar heap on the floor on the opposite side of the room, a hand pressed to his head as he tried to push himself up. Between the two of them stood the silent and imposing figure of Kylo Ren.

The masked head tilted as he pushed back the cowl of his robes, then turned to look between the two prone Stormtroopers. "Say what you need to one another," he ordered, his tone mild as it rumbled through the helmet's apparatus. "Then you will come with me, ZL-U58."

The training room had grown silent, the other Stormtroopers working on cardio programs or working with weights stopping what they were doing to stare.

"Bitch." FN-2199 wanted to double over and retch from the blow to his balls, but he kept himself upright, pressing to his feet. He might have considered tempering his response, but he didn't fear Kylo Ren as so many others seemed to. "The Resistance uses alien scum like you all the time…did you make him turn traitor? Fuck with his head like your kind can?"

Her skull pounded and her face was going numb as she shoved to her feet to face FN-2199. She wouldn't think of what it meant that the Supreme Leader's enforcer had come for her. Not while she burned up inside with what she needed to say. "Stay away from me. Don't you ever touch me again," she snarled, shoving her tangled hair from her battered face. "I'm one of you. Fuck you, Nines. I'm loyal. I'm _loyal!"_ She pounded her fist to her chest. "You ignorant son of a bitch. What I am doesn't mean I'm any less than you." Stars, she was sick of this, she was so sick of it. Sick of knowing what she saw in the mirror made her less in the eyes of everyone. Sick of always having to prove her being an alien didn't make her any less a soldier. Sick of what the last twenty-four hours had opened up inside of her and how it was tearing her apart to feel so much of what was hers and what belonged to others. Sick of thinking of FN-2187 and Poe Dameron and hurting because of both of them. And now they were gone and she was still here and still hurting. And Kylo Ren had seen inside her head and now here he stood…and he'd come for her.

FN-2199 was staring at her and it might have been with regret or perhaps just indignation that all of this had been witnessed. She wasn't sure and she sure as hell did not care. ZL-U58 turned towards the silent form of Kylo Ren. "I'm ready, Sir."

He stared at her for a lengthy, tense moment, then just nodded and turned on his heel and stalked out of the training room. Casting one more scathing look at FN-2199, at all of them, ZL-U58 followed Ren.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next updates will probably start being once a week, what with working on my masters. Thank you all so much for the reviews, the kudos and bookmarks!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Star Wars shenanigans and chapter updates at my tumblr, bluemilkinaredsolocup  
> For more information on the Zeltron race, check out their Wookiepedia entry. The Legends tab has far more detail than the Canon tab.


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